


The Watcher as a Companion

by Neriad13



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Banter, Deadfire, F/F, F/M, Gen, Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 01:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neriad13/pseuds/Neriad13
Summary: A response to a series of prompts about what one's Watcher would be like as a companion in the game.I named my Watcher Fish Face. She's quite silly, but dead serious about ending slavery in the Deadfire.





	The Watcher as a Companion

**_If your Watcher, or other Pillars OC, was a recruitable companion instead of the main character, how and where would they be introduced to the main party?_ **

Late at night, the Defiant’s spotter sights a sea battle going on in the distance. Cannons roar across the dark water. The scene is illuminated by flashes of cannon-fire and magelight. As your ship draws closer, the spotter identifies the colors of the ship under siege - a large, full-bellied galleon - as Vailian and those of the other - a smaller, sleeker affair - as Príncipi. 

It’s too late by the time the Defiant arrives. The galleon is dead in the water, pirates swarming over its deck. However, it’s obvious that the pirates took more than a few hits themselves. What remains of their crew is easily overwhelmed by the Defiant’s boarding party. 

The above-deck situation taken care of, you set out to check for survivors below. From somewhere deep in the hold, you hear an incessant pounding and an angry Huana curse that roars through the ship. Fractured psychic echoes batter your mind as you descend - the feeling of heavy chains around thin wrists, the ache of rowing for endless, sunless days without rest, a toothless cook slopping fish stew into a bowl hard enough to splash boiling liquid on an already beaten body.

“Fish for the Fish Face.” he laughs, his gummy smile rotten and hideous.

The images fade and you find yourself in the deepest cargo hold of the ship. Ahead, you see a large shape moving in the darkness, hurling itself against what looks like a nondescript wall again and again, grunting with exertion, crying with rage.

Creeping closer, you identify the shape as an Aumaua, but the kith’s skin is mottled and purple and the shell on their head that you initially took for a helm is a thick, bony carapace, built into the contours of the kith’s skull.

A death godlike. 

The godlike screams, a terrible, soul-rending sound and heaves her shoulder through the wall with a mighty _crack._

You feel the echoes of that scream in your soul and the psychic imprint of passion, of defiance. You feel the weight of the oar you were chained to for years on end in your hands and hear the resounding _crack_ it makes as you use it to smash the head of the man who put you there.

The vision clears. Many hands are reaching through the wood paneling, tearing loose the last bits of the hidden door, reaching out to the person who smashed it. 

One by one, kith after kith - Orlans, Vailians, what looks like half a tribe of bedraggled Huana - are helped up through the splintered door by the sturdy hands of their savior. A few of them flinch away at the sight of her face but most of them shower her with praise and thanks. They’re all pale and sweaty and weak. Some fall to the ground the moment they’re free of the secret compartment. The stronger ones immediately set to searching the hold for medicine once they’ve got their bearings.

Only when the godlike has emptied the chamber of occupants, does she turn around to face you. 

The carapace covers her face down to the tip of her nose. You can’t help but think that it does make her look like a bony-headed species of fish that you’ve eaten once or twice since coming to the Deadfire. 

“So I suppose you’re the one responsible for why my old crewmates aren’t down here scavenging for treasure.” she says resignedly, crossing her arms.

“Well, do what you like with the pirates, but I’ll not have you laying a finger on any of _them._ ”

She steps in front of a little Huana girl protectively.

**\- Who are you?**

A wry smile twists her purple lips.

“They called me Ika Maka. So that must be my name.”

**[Deadfire Origin]** _…fish face?_

**[Insight]** It’s…not a nice name, is it?

She smiles wider, showing her sharpened teeth. 

Her stance is unsettlingly defensive.

**\- What are you doing here?**

“Freeing slaves. Captain Esclavista ran a tidy operation under false colors and forged paperwork. I’ve been hunting him for some time. Delivered the killing blow myself. I’ll do it a thousand times over, until there are no more Crookspur captains left.”

**\- Crookspur?**

She frowns. 

“Slavers. They’ve got a fortress to the far east of here. Their main targets are isolated Huana tribes, though any person who falls through the cracks will do. They’re good at skirting the law. At staying just out of reach of the big guns.”

**\- Why were you allied with the Príncipi?**

She shrugs.

“A means to an end. The captain is… _was_ …particularly susceptible to…suggestion. I may have… _suggested_ that he hunt this particular trader. I suppose your crew is pillaging what remains of his ship as we speak?”

**Afraid so.**

“Ah. Too bad. I’ll have to find someone else to _suggest_ ideas to. Say…you wouldn’t be open to giving me a lift, would you?”

**And who’s to say that you wouldn’t be _suggesting_ things to me?**

She laughs, her shadowed face cracking into the first genuine smile you’ve seen. 

“No one, I’m sure. You’ll just have to trust in your own understanding, won’t you?”

Your new party member aboard and the Príncipi loot stowed away, you wave goodbye to the departing ship crewed by newly freed slaves. 

**_Shipboard Dialogue Tree_ **

Ika Maka has made a cozy nook atop a narrow shelf where you store the Defiant’s grog. She barely fits into the tiny space, but seems content. She hops down as she sees you approach and offers you a mug of lukewarm grog.

“To dead slavers!” she shouts, downing the mug in one swig.

**To dead slavers!**

“Damn straight.” she slurs, as she pours herself another mug.

**To new friends!**

She flinches as though you were about to slap her and chokes on her grog mid-swallow. Then she wipes her mouth and gives you a gentle smile.

**\- I saw echoes of your memories in the hold of Esclavista’s ship.**

“Oh…did you?”

She fiddles with the handle of the mug nervously. It’s hard to read her face, hidden as it is by her carapace, but she seems bashful.

“Sorry about that. It happens sometimes, when I’m feeling too passionately to hold it in. I’ll see that it won’t happen again. At least…not like _that_. Though I can’t promise that your crew won’t be treated to the occasional nightmare on account of me.”

**\- You were a slave?**

She purses her lips and squeezes the mug. Just when you think that she isn’t going to answer, she does.

“Yes. I was just a child when I was taken. I don’t even remember my tribe. I was Huana, if you couldn’t tell. Got sold to a Príncipi captain for a strand of shells. Sometimes he used me as shiphunter or brought me out to scare whatever poor souls he was about to send to Ondra but mostly…I was in the galley. Rowing.”

Her lip curls with disgust. 

You feel the impression of chains around your wrists and an unfamiliar ache in your back again. 

She composes herself and the feelings depart as quickly as they came.

“As I got older, I got better at shiphunting. And I figured out that my skills had other uses. It was little things at first. _Suggesting_ that the cook be kinder to me. Then that he give me a bigger portion. That I be given deckhand duty more often. That the quartermaster misplace his keys one night…”

She smiles wickedly. 

“The entire galley rose up and took over the ship. I took care of the captain myself. I don’t think I’ll ever have a moment better than that one.”

She takes a long sip of her grog.

**\- What happened after that?**

“Oh, we got horribly lost. Threw the navigator overboard, see. But those that knew their homes found them eventually and as for the rest of us, we posed as Príncipi for a time. Pillaging what little prizes we could to survive, until we had supplies enough to get out of the Deadfire.”

“After that, I spent some time wandering the Eastern Reach, mostly doing mercenary work. Did a stint in Rauatai. Was an acolyte of Berath for a short while. It didn’t suit me. But, having no idea what to do with myself after leaving that temple…I decided that I wanted to go _home_ …to…”

She takes another sip of the grog, draining the mug and slams it on the galley table. 

“To use my skills to give to others what had been taken from me. So here we are. You know the rest.”

**\- Where are you off to next?**

“Not sure. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d live much past Captain Esclavias’s death. Some of the Príncipi were catching on to me. The first mate…she was way too canny. I’ll have to find a new target…and a new ship.”

You think she’s side-eyeing you beneath her carapace, but it’s impossible to be sure.

She catches you looking at her and smiles sweetly in return.

“But in the meantime…”

She scoops up her mug off the table and raises it in a mock salute to you.

“To your ship’s fine hospitality!”

**_What would their companion quest involve?_ **

You can feel the rage crashing off Ika Maka’s back like a physical presence as you walk down the stairs of the Vailian Trading Company. Once you’re well away from the company guards, she pulls you aside.

“They work with _slavers_!” she hisses, the words a snarl between her sharpened teeth. “He practically _admitted_ it! Right there, in that…that fancy office! You…cannot be thinking of going through with this, can you?”

**If the money’s good…**

She levels with you.

“Look. I’ll plunder as much as anyone. Vailian, Royal Deadfire, Príncipi…it doesn’t matter. But this…this is where I draw the line. You _cannot_ deal with them and expect me to stand idly by.”

**We need a strong ally against Eothas. If this gets us in with them…**

She sighs and squeezes the part of her carapace where the bridge of her nose would have been.

“I know. And the Royal Deadfire Company isn’t much better. But…please…don’t crush the little people in pursuit of the big man.”

**No. Never.**

She visibly relaxes.

“Hoo…thank you for that. It…means a lot. Truly. Uh…”

Her arms twitch as though to hug you but she quickly drops them to her sides.

“Shall we…carry on, then?”

***

Ika Maka stiffens as you walk across the drawbridge to Crookspur Keep. You can feel the fear radiating off of her. It’s making you sick to your stomach. You’ve seen her do this purposefully to enemy combatants a hundred times over and for the first time, you feel for the poor bastards.

The crowd presses in around you, the air thick with shouted bids and the energy of the auction. The auctioneer babbles a stream of what sounds like nonsense aside from the words “-and SOLD!” and a woman in chains is led off to an eager buyer. 

“For our last item of the day…” the auctioneer goes on, swaggering across the stage, “A rare and _handsome_ fellow!”

A tall, stooped death godlike is led up the stairs by the chain attached to his manacles. Growths cover his eyes and spiral up into a pair of amethyst horns far above his head. 

Ika Maka is incessantly tugging on your sleeve.

“ _Buy him!_ ” she mouths, jerking her head toward the stage in a way that isn’t subtle at all. The aura she’s putting off spikes in intensity and you try not to lose your lunch.

The auction begins.

The auctioneer rattles off bids almost too fast for the ear to follow. All you know is that the price is going up and an old woman on the other end of courtyard keeps outbidding you. 

Then, all of a sudden, she and all the other bidders fall silent. 

You turn to see Ika Maka concentrating intensely, a single finger against her temple. 

“Going once for 800 pires?” the auctioneer says, a note of confusion in her voice, “Going twice, 800 pires. And…sold! To our first-timer friend there.”

Ika Maka relaxes and lets out a heavy sigh. The noise of the crowd resumes as though it were never disturbed.

***

Back on the Defiant, Ika Maka and Eliam are happily untangling lines together. They aren’t talking much, but you can feel a warm radiance when you get near to her and the echo of her contentment in your soul.

 ** _What traits would affect their approval, positively or negatively?_**

Your crew eagerly awaits your answer. A dozen unknowing eyes, staring at you beseechingly. What are you to tell them? The truth? The truth is outrageous. It sounds silly when you _think_ it, let alone _say_ it. 

But you know that you can’t lie to them. They need to know what they’ll be risking their lives for. But how to say it? Perhaps if you wrapped it in an amusing facade…

Yeah. That would make it more palatable.

You strike a dramatic pose and point a finger across the horizon. 

“We’re going after that naked blue giant who stole my soul!”

Nobody laughs. They’re all staring at you, dumbfounded. 

Then you hear a snort, followed by a muffed snigger.

**[Lighthearted]** Ika Maka does a slow clap that doesn’t catch on and almost falls off the barrel she’s sitting on with the force of her laughter.

**_Which other companions would they get along with, and which would they bicker with, in Party Banter?_ **

“So…” Xoti says, sidling up to Ika Maka as they hike up the Sacred Stair, under the blazing Neketaka sun, “Y’ever…considered Following the Light?”

“What?” Ika Maka snaps, her head abruptly turning to face her, “You think I can see light through this thing?”

She knocks on the front of her carapace. It makes a hollow sound.

Xoti turns bright red down to the tips of her ears.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean”-

“I get around by smell, you know. And touch. Eco-location.”

She gives the worst impression of a crow you’ve ever heard. Xoti looks at her with a mixture of bewilderment and awe.

A few seconds pass.

“Kidding.” she says gently, resting a hand on her shoulder, “But…no. I’m not interested in any gods. I figure they abandoned me long ago. No sense in digging through that old pail of worms, y’know?”

***

“Heh.”

Ika Maka chuckles weakly, her arms dangling over the railing of the Defiant as it pulls away from the ruins of Hasongo. She nudges Edér in the ribs.

“That kid called you old.”

The faintest of smiles flickers across Edér’s face.

***

Ishiza bobs his head. Edér follows suit. Ishiza hops in place. Edér does the same, in the middle of the palace gardens, Queen Onekaza not ten feet away.

“Does your friend have a head wound?” Maia asks cautiously, eyeing Edér and then the queen.

“Aw, c’mon!” Ika Maka blurts out, draping an arm around Edér’s shoulder, “Let the poor old man talk to birds!”

“Old? Why I oughta - !”

Ika Maka squeals with delight as she breaks free, narrowly escaping a headlock. Before he can try again, she dashes across the rooftop, shrieking with laughter, Edér hot on her heels.

***

“Ika Maka…” Pallegina says, an ominous tone in her voice, “I feel obliged to warn you…if you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for the slightest thing. What is it you stand for? Surely there’s more than you’ve been letting on.”

Ika Maka regards her stiffly, thinking it over.

“Grog, mostly.” she finally answers.

Her lips are pursed in thought.

“Hmm…food a close second. Oh, and plunder. That’s pretty good. To buy grog with, you know.”

Pallegina rolls her eyes.

“This isn’t a laughing matter.”

“And what would you have me stand for, hmm? The high ideal of ripping rocks out of the ground and grinding them into fine powder to _maybe_ delete all ills off the face of Eora or else make it that much harder for souls to reincarnate? Nah. Keep your ideals. I’ll keep my grog.”

***

Everyone gasps as they emerge into the chamber deep beneath the Watershaper’s Guild. Edér whistles as he eyes the dragon before them.

“This’d make a great fishing story.”

Ika Maka nods and nudges him, a wry grin on her lips.

“If you’ll be the bait.”

**_Would they be romanceable? Would they end up in a romance with another companion, if both were left unromanced (à la Maia & Xoti)?_ **

Your eyes snap open at the sound of splashing. Maia is chasing Xoti around the pool, flicking luminous water at her squealing self. Xoti eventually retaliates, hopping out of the pool and then swamping her with a painful-looking full body slam the force of which you can feel on the other side of the water.

Ika Maka chuckles next to you.

“I’m so glad she found someone else. Besides Gaun, I mean. She needed a more worldly love, you know?”

**Any other opinions on romance?**

“Hmm…Edér and Iselmyr makes a cute couple. He misses her when she’s away and they make each other laugh.”

She pouts as she thinks deeper on it.

“But it’s awkward. Very awkward.”

**And what about yourself?**

“Ohhhh, no. Not for me.”

She waves a hand in front of herself as though to ward off evil spirits.

“There…aren’t too many people out there who want to see Rikuhu’s face when they…y’know. After a point I just stopped trying.”

**I wouldn’t mind you trying.**

“Would you now?”

It’s hard to tell, but you think she’s blushing. She sinks below the water and you hear a muffled squeal followed by an explosion of bubbles. 

**_Would anything make them leave the party, or would they be there for the long haul?_ **

Master Nua flicks through his paperwork.

“Now about the problem of the Wahaki Tribe…they’ve been resisting us for some time but if you take out their leaders, well, that would be mutually beneficial for both of us, right?”

**I’ll do it.**

“Here, let me mark it on your map…”

All of a sudden, you feel a cold vise close around your body. You can’t move. You can barely think. With great effort, you crane your head toward the direction the feeling’s coming from and see Ika Maka, her mouth set in a hard line, a vein bulging in her neck. Her anger is a nigh-insurmountable wall around your psyche. You struggle to overcome it.

The vise tightens and your hand reaches for your weapon.

Nua, oblivious to what’s happening before him, is writing a note in the margin of your map.

**[High Resolve]** Gritting your teeth, you break free of Ika Maka’s control. Sweat is pouring down your back. You feel wobbly and weak, like you’ve just broken free of a tremendous undertow with great effort.

Nua looks up and hands you your map. He appears to have seen nothing of the psychic struggle inches away from his desk.

“Good hunting! And best of luck!”

Ika Maka’s face is blank. She refuses to look at you as you leave.

**[Low Resolve]** Her will overwhelms and crushes yours. You pull your weapon from its holster. Your hand shaking, you aim it at Nua’s bowed head.

At last, he looks up.

“Good hunting! And…”

The smile on his face dies. His eyes go wide.

You pull the trigger.

***

**You shouldn’t have done that!**

You’re surrounded by the bodies of the slavers you’d hoped would be paying you. Of the wreckage of the alliance you’d hoped would help you take down a god. 

“Yeah?”

She spits at your feet. It lands on the cheek of a young guard, his eyes frozen open in death.

“And you shouldn’t have been making deals with _slavers_!”

**I make my own decisions.**

Ika Maka smirks.

“So do I. And y’know what I’ve decided?”

She crosses her arms and glowers at you.

“We’re done.”

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for “Let the poor old man talk to birds!” to Cantankerouscatfish. Thank you for listen to my fandom ramblings and making me laugh. =D
> 
> I reeeeeeally wanted to write a banter with Iselmyr, but have less than zero confidence in my Hylspeak writing abilities at the moment. Suffice to say that the two of them get along famously. Her and Aloth, not so much, though he does eventually come around.


End file.
